Now I posted all we have posted so far with Levade on AO3. The next chapters will be published the same time on both sites.

Thank you for reading :)

Chapter IV

The following days were one diplomatic nightmare. After the initial shock, Fëanáro's sudden return was bound to cause trouble, but Elrond felt his hands were tied. What was he to do, anyway? He could hardly let him wander around, but stopping him any other way than asking politely? Celebrimbor placed Fëanáro and Glorfindel close to the quarters he and his men occupied during their visit in Lindon. Any attempt of taking Fëanáro into custody would surely end in a riot, which was exactly what Elrond wished to avoid. On what charges anyway? Burning the ships at Losgar? They had worked hard with Gil-galad to make all the old grudges vanish, so various groups of elves could coexist in peace. Arresting Fëanáro would enrage quite a big group of Noldor and they would be right to do so. And besides, Fëanáro had been brought back to life by the Valar. Whatever he had done earlier, he had been forgiven, or else he would be still in Mandos.

Elrond smiled grimly at his thoughts. For a moment he was even tempted to insist that their wounded guest needed his rest and give him some painkilling potion that would send him to sleep, but he had to admit it would be low of him. He had to settle for setting a careful guard, simply to know the whereabouts of their potentially troublesome guest.

Surprisingly, as it quickly turned out, Fëanáro seemed to be above all that. He watched the court with mild interest, but did not interfere unless he was addressed directly. Yes, he wore the emblems of his House with ostentation, but so did his grandson. After growing up with Maglor and Maedhros, then having Celebrimbor living in the city for several centuries before he left for Eregion, Elrond was used to seeing a certain eight-pointed star everywhere. Sometimes literally.

The next time they met, Fëanáro asked Elrond for some more maps and books concerning Sindarin grammar. He mentioned something about having to master the language and Elrond happily picked one of Celebrimbor's men to serve their guest as a guide. There was little trouble reading could cause.

Despite Fëanáro spending most of the time either in the library or in his quarters, Elrond still had to deal with several complaints concerning his mere presence in the city. He was able to cut most of them off by saying that Fëanáro was the king's guest, but he could still see discontent of the complaining elves, and it all dragged him away from his usual duties.

As if it wasn't enough, Galadriel chose that very moment to come visiting with her daughter Celebrian. Elrond was not too pleased when he learned that she had met Glorfindel and Fëanáro in Harlond and failed to send a word of warning. Celeborn remained there, as he had some business to discuss with Cirdan, but Galadriel felt like her presence was needed at the king's court in face of all that happened lately.

So when Gil-galad decided to have a feast to welcome their unexpected guests, Elrond just couldn't shrug off the feeling that something was going to go amiss. Even after their honorary guests promised not to bring any weapons, he was just waiting for the disaster.

xxx

It was going well. Better than he had thought when Gil-galad had asked him to organize a welcoming ball for the two elves returned to Middle-earth.

Elrond still found the entire situation surrealistic. They had no idea why the elves had been sent back as both were being secretive. Secretive in the darkening days meant nothing good to Elrond. He could not have stopped his suspicions any more than he could stop the sun from its path.

The Valar did not meddle in the affairs of Men and Elves lightly, if ever.

Still, Elrond had to admit there was little if any darkness in Glorfindel of Gondolin (if that was truly who he was. It was ...odd). He moved easily through the gathering, stopping briefly to speak with this or that noble, before moving on around the room. He clearly was comfortable in such settings.

More comfortable than Elrond himself. He did well with small groups, but these huge parties that Gil-galad's felt necessary made him feel as though the collar of his tunic was too tight around his neck, the braids in his hair too tight. At least a great deal of attention was off of him this time. Elrond was not fond of the courtiers who came to him as if toadying up to him would gain them something from the king.

Where was Fëanáro? Elrond found him standing near a pair of doors, inspecting a fancy bit of sculpture. For a moment, a wistful longing softened the haughty expression, but it disappeared when Celebrimbor approached, and Elrond wondered yet again what the Valar were thinking in sending Fëanáro back.

"Elrond, there you are."

He turned and his heart gave a leap as he stared into Celebrían's eyes. His mouth was suddenly dry, his palms damp, but he managed a smile. "Good evening."

Dimples appeared as she smiled, and Celebrían looped her arm through his. "The musicians are going to play one of my favorite songs, I asked them to, and you should ask me to dance."

"I should?" His heart stuttered as she leaned in so close he could see the darker band around the blue of her eyes.

"Definitely."

So, as the music started, he could only smile and lead her out on the floor, a willing captive to her glorious smile.

xxx

"Do you like it?" Celebrimbor ran his hand over the sculpture. "I felt this palace needed a Fëanorian touch here and there, and did a series of these."

"It's very nice." It did not look alive like Nerdanel's sculptures, but there was a wistful air to the elf, hair blowing in the wind, as he looked to some distant point. There was something familiar about it, the strong jaw line, the stubborn set to the shoulders. "It reminds me of Atarinke."

Celebrimbor nodded, pursing his lips. "I was imagining what my father and uncles looked like when they first arrived here, in Middle-earth." He ran a hand over the sculpture's face. "Before it all went wrong." He looked up to find his grandfather frowning. "I can show the other ones to you if you want."

"Tell me what you are doing now, Tyelpe." Fëanáro glanced around the room, deliberately meeting the gazes of several nobles staring at him. They looked away first and he smirked, turning back to his grandson. "Tell me about the Dwarves. I keep hearing that you are working with them?"

"I am." Enthusiasm fired the grey eyes as Celebrimbor began to explain about the Mithril the Dwarves had found and how he had gathered together many of the Feanorian smiths in Lindon to bring them to Eregion to form the Gwaith-i-Mírdain.

Fëanáro listened with an indulgent smile, pleased to hear all that Tyelpe had accomplished.

"But listen." Taking his grandfather's uninjured arm, Celebrimbor turned towards the nearest door. "There is more, but not for so many eager ears to hear." Before he could take one step, Fëanáro's was suddenly ripped from his light grip and Celebrimbor whirled to find a dark-haired Noldo had slammed his grandfather against the wall and was holding him in place, hands wrapped around his neck.

xxx

Glorfindel was listening with very little attention to the noble woman telling him about her daughters, when he heard a pained cry from behind him. He was moving, running for the man holding Fëanáro against the wall even as Celebrimbor moved to pry the man away from his grandfather. Grabbing the shoulders of the man as Celebrimbor pried the choking hands away from Fëanáro, Glorfindel pulled him away and spun him around with a thunderous frown. "You would break the peace of this gathering with violence?" He grabbed the fist coming at him and took hold of the man's tunic to slam him against the wall, knocking the air out of him. "Cease struggling. Now."

"Grandfather!" Celebrimbor eased him to the ground, as Fëanáro, pale and sweaty looked like he was going to be ill. He turned to a shocked onlooker. "Get Elrond!"

"I'm fine." Fëanáro grabbed Celebrimbor's arm and squeezed it hard. "Tell me where that fool that grabbed me is."

Looking over his shoulder, Celebrimbor saw Glorfindel dragging the man away, arm twisted behind his back. "He ran afoul of your friend."

A snort, and Fëanáro closed his eyes. "What did he want?"

"He said nothing. He just suddenly was there." Celebrimbor saw the blood seeping through the tunic as Elrond dropped to his knees next to him.

"What happened?" He eased the sling over Fëanáro's head and peeled back his tunic. "Who let that fool Ornéldo in with a knife?"

"Knife?" Celebrimbor paled. "Elrond, I saw no knife. He went for his throat!"

"And yet here I see my handiwork undone, and the wound is bleeding again." Elrond's frown fell on one of the palace guards, hovering nearby. "Find Ornéldo. Bring him to the king. He will answer for this violence."

"My lord, he's already been subdued." He nodded. "I'll bring him to the king."

"Let's get him up." Elrond looked to Fëanáro and shook his head. "I told the king this was too soon."

"Don't fuss." Fëanáro scowled and with Celebrimbor's help pushed to his feet and swept his gaze overt the gathered crowd. "I believe I have had enough of the welcoming of this court. I find it sadly lacking."

As they walked out, Celebrimbor glared at those they passed. "And this is why I find Ost-in-Edhil much more to my taste." He sneered at a woman who had a handkerchief pressed to her mouth. "At least there if we bleed it is because we work on creating new things, and not because we hate what we do not understand."

He didn't wait to hear a response.

xxx

Stripping his outer tunic off, Elrond shoved the sleeves of his shirt up and washed his hands before starting to gently clean the area around Fëanáro's wound. "I could string that fool up by his heels for this." Tossing the bloody linen, he grabbed another and doused it with ointment before meeting Fëanáro's gaze. "This is going to hurt quite a bit, but it will stop the bleeding."

"Do it." Gritting his teeth, Fëanáro grunted as Elrond pressed hard against the abused flesh of his shoulder and collarbone. "Have they asked that man what he was so angry about?"

"I don't know." Elrond looked at Celebrimbor. "Do you wish to go find out?"

A nod and Celebrimbor stood. "I'm no help here." Setting a hand on his grandfather's good shoulder, he squeezed gently. "I'll be back with answers."

"Good." Fëanáro blew out a long breath as Celebrimbor left. "I cannot say I'm enjoying Middle-earth this time around."

"I dare say you aren't." Elrond lifted the pad of linen then pressed it back. "A few more minutes should have the bleeding stopped."

"Did that man have a knife or not?"

"Celebrimbor said no."

Fëanáro shook his head. "I shall need to be more wary, I see." He scowled. "I'm hardly used to the need to worry that someone will try to kill me."

"It pays to be cautious these days." Pulling the cloth away, Elrond studied the wound. "I believe it is clean, but I'm going to only put a few stitches in and bandage it again. You'll have to keep that sling for now."

Waving his good hand impatiently, Fëanáro gave a short nod. "Yes, do what you must, Elrond." He looked at the door. "As will I."

"You are not planning anything rash, are you?" Elrond took a needle. "The king will deal harshly with this man, I promise you that. He does not tolerate such an insult to a guest, himself or the Court."

"I will not seek and kill him, if that is what you are concerned about." Biting back a hiss as the needle went through his skin, Fëanáro gestured to his arm. "I'm hardly fit to do anyone harm, am I?"

"If I believed that," Elrond said and stood, picking up the basin of bloodied linens. "I would not be any sort of advisor to the king, would I?" Wrapping the bandage and tying it off, Elrond helped Fëanáro with the sling before sitting back.

A hint of a smile played around Fëanáro's mouth. "My thanks yet again, Elrond. I hope we will not have to meet this way much longer."

"As do I."

Waiting only until Fëanáro had left, Elrond washed his hands, grabbed his cloak and left through the door leading to the balcony. He had no desire to return to the party, and before he sought the king, he needed to clear his head of anger.

Elrond headed for the beach.

xxx

To his annoyance there was someone else who had the same idea. Elrond sighed and thought about turning around, but his ire rose and he decided just to pass whomever it was, and not acknowledge them. They clearly did not know this was generally acknowledged as the king's stretch of beach where Ereinion could be alone and think.

As he passed the person, he looked up and Elrond found himself startled at the tree-bright gaze. He'd grown up with such eyes, though Maglor's had dimmed as life had taken its toll on his soul. These eyes were bright yet, the tree light a sparkling fire in the blue eyes and the glow of his skin marked him unmistakably as an Eldar of Aman.

"How is Fëanáro?"

"He will recover if yet another fool does not decide to take old grudges out on him." Elrond snapped the answer out, and glared defiantly at his unwanted companion.

Glorfindel nodded slowly and looked out to the sea. "He lost his entire family crossing the ice."

"As did others, no doubt, but -"

"I was not making an excuse for him." Sitting on a nearby boulder where the waves did not reach, Glorfindel kept his gaze westward. "We all lost loved ones, that is true. I suspect he simply did not expect to see Fëanáro once again looking healthy and hale while his own kin linger in Mandos."

"Perhaps he should remember all of Fëanáro's sons, save one, are also in Mandos."

"Yes." Glorfindel nodded, a sad smile turning his mouth. "I believe many elves here think they received what they deserved."

"They know nothing," Elrond growled, and began walking. He stopped and turned. "What do you believe, Glorfindel of Gondolin? You who were released from those very halls."

"That we all need mercy and forgiveness for things done in times of darkness." Glorfindel stood and faced Elrond. "That we all made mistakes that, if it was possible, we might go back and do things differently, but time flows in only one direction and so must we." He shrugged. "I surprised myself at my anger upon seeing Artanis."

"She is called Galadriel now."

"Yes," Glorfindel agreed, unruffled at Elrond's surly tone of voice. "So she is. I spoke harsh words and angered her husband." He frowned. "I had thought ... Well, none of us is perfect, are we Elrond Eärendilion?"

"I have never found a perfect person." But his heart reminded him that there was one, with silver hair and sparkling blue eyes, who seemed very near that.

"What will the king do?"

Blinking out of his lovely memories of Celebrían, Elrond's gaze hardened. "I was going to find him now and see just that." He surprised himself by adding, a touch gruffly, "Come with me if you wish. You stopped him after all."

"Celebrimbor as well." But Glorfindel fell into step with Elrond.

"You should tell the king why you have returned."

Glorfindel smiled. "What if it is not about the king?"

Stopping, Elrond turned to frown at his companion. "Then what is it about?"

Laughing, Glorfindel kept walking. "Whom, not what, Eärendilion!"

Scowling, he truly was too annoyed for word games, Elrond caught up and found he had to walk quickly to keep up with the tall elf. "Fine. Keep your secrets. So long as you are not seeking evil against us -" He drew up, and glared as Glorfindel put a hand on his arm.

"Elrond." Glorfindel's voice was quiet, resonating deep. "I mean no ill towards Gil-galad, you or any other here in his kingdom. My only foe is Sauron."

Stomach easing from the sour feel, Elrond blew out a breath. "We could use allies, Glorfindel." He shook his head. "You have no idea..."

"And there is your answer." Glorfindel smiled and met Elrond's gaze, holding it with ease.

A snort and he began walking. "You could have just said so."

"I believe I just did."

Surprising himself, Elrond laughed. "So you did. Come along, Ereinion will be waiting."

xxx

They were already there, Gil-galad looking outraged, with Elrond at his side. The latter seemed more composed, as if he managed to release some of the anger Fëanáro could sense when he was helping him with his arm. Glorfindel was standing by the wall right from the doors leading at a balcony, his expression unreadable, but something in his posture betrayed his tension and wariness.

The Noldo who had attacked Fëanáro stood before the king, with royal guards close, though not holding him. He still looked furious and certainly not as humbled as he should be, and there was still anger in his voice as he spoke to the king.

"He does not deserve to live!" spat the elf defiantly. "His mere presence here is a mockery."

"And you see yourself a better judge of that than Lord Namo?" asked Fëanáro in the doorstep. He went in, looking down at most save for the king and Elrond at his side. He didn't bother to change, so his stained tunic stood witness to the fact that the elf's actions at the ball had resulted in drawing blood.

"Then why don't you tell us all what are you doing here, other than spiting us with your presence?" The Noldo turned to face Fëanáro, hate and contempt shining in his eyes.

"That is my business," replied Fëanáro dismissively. "And that is none concern of yours as I seek neither aid nor trouble. And as I recall, violence was never welcomed at the king's court."

"You're talking!"

Fëanáro actually laughed at the irony of it.

"A wise man learns not only from his own errors, but also from the ones made by others," he said pointedly. "But perhaps some are unable to draw conclusions from history and mistakes made in youth."

"You'd do well to remember who's in charge here, my lord," interrupted Gil-galad angrily, interrupting the verbal duel.

"Oh, rest assured I do." Fëanáro shrugged, hiding his discomfort behind a smirk. He was not about to show that his shoulder was still aching despite Elrond's tending, but he felt irritated and would gladly retire. "I'm eager to hear the king's verdict."

"And a verdict you shall hear, but not until the Court gathers," declared Ereinion. "Such an insult will not go unpunished. It saddens me that my guest and my kin was met with violence while attending this gathering at my invitation."

Though Gil-galad started talking to Fëanáro, he then turned towards Ornéldo. The elf met his gaze, but he looked away and bowed his head. Seeing that the king was clearly displeased, Ornéldo lost some of his resolve.

"Put him under guard till morrow and give him time to sober up," ordered Gil-galad to the guards, who led Ornéldo away. Then he addressed Fëanáro again. "For now, please accompany me, unless you're unwell."

"Your herald has skilful hands," replied Feanaro evasively. He bowed slightly to the king and Elrond, then turned around and left the room, with Celebrimbor closely behind him.

"I know this party isn't probably the most fortunate either of us have ever attended, but you know, you look like you could use a strong drink and some food," commented Glorfindel as he joined them at the corridor.

Fëanáro glared at him. "I am not drinking with you again."

"I sense there is a story behind it," laughed Celebrimbor. "Please join me, both of you. I bet I can provide more pleasant company than those fools," he gestured at the group of elves who were trying to find out what was going on.

"Very well."

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